


Bitter Vapor

by scratchienails



Series: No Chance of Precipitation [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabble Collection, Emotional Baggage, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, One Word Prompts, Speculation, Yusaku is not good at getting better, for now!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchienails/pseuds/scratchienails
Summary: Sequel (?) to Acid RainOne of them left, and one was left behind. Separately, they learn to live without the chase, without the mission, without each other. Or, at least, they try to. It's a work in progress.And then there's Takeru.Sometimes moving on takes a little going backwards, apparently.





	1. Three Months of Not Knowing

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm back with a sequel/interlude thing for Acid Rain, which will be following canon until Ryoken inevitably makes his return. This one is going to involve a bit more speculation than Acid Rain did, and the style might be a little different. Since we have no idea what Ryoken is actually up to, his role is going to be a bit limited so I don't end up screwing canon too badly. Also, since Takeru is a bit of a mystery at the moment, there's a lot of assumptions going into his sections. 
> 
> And lastly, if you thought Yusaku was a mess in Acid Rain, you ain't seen nothing yet.

66\. Year?

“I can’t help you.” He tells Flame with shaking hands. The room is dark, lit only by the distant red of twilight, and Takeru can’t deal with this. Any of it. “I can’t. What if they’re still out there?” He’s spent so long agonizing over that question that it bursts out of him, unconfined.

The strange, alien creature stares at him with unfathomable yellow eyes. Takeru cannot tell if it is disappointed.

“If you’re worried about the ones responsible for your captivity, the Incident, you called it? Then don’t be.” The artificial intelligence that introduced itself through his computer talks pompously, but its words hold more gravity than its insubstantial form. “They have been defeated. And the man that tortured you is dead.”

“Defeated? Dead?” The words come out with half alarm, half desperate hope. Takeru cannot believe it—does not dare believe it.

Flame nods, a mockery of a hand coming up to cup his near nonexistent chin. “A duelist that goes by the username Playmaker took care of them, it seems.”

“Playmaker? _The_ Playmaker?” Takeru’s heart is pounding in his chest. He can put two and two together; everyone knows who Playmaker hunted to extinction. “You mean the Knights of Hanoi were the ones—”

Flame cuts him off with the wave of a black and red hand. “I’ll explain everything, if you agree to assist me.”

Takeru bites his lip. He wants to know; he’s been desperate for years, but he had never known where to even start. But, it’s too much. It’s all too much. “Even so, I can’t...After everything, I--”

“He’s the same as you, you know.” Flame says, and it can’t possibly mean what Takeru think’s it means, but it does. “An Ignis was made from him as well.”

Playmaker is one of the victims. Playmaker is just like him.

And Playmaker had found the strength to confront the world head-on.

Takeru thinks he knows what determination feels like as a strange sense of need and capability courses through his veins. “I will help you, but on one condition." He says. "I want to meet Playmaker.”

Maybe this is what he’s been waiting for.

 

23\. Devotion

Yusaku waits. And waits. And waits.

Ryoken does not come back, and Yusaku waits longer. He tells himself that he can wait however long he needs to; after ten years, a couple of months, a couple of years, no matter how long, it will be nothing in comparison to those long days of uncertainty and worry, wondering if the person he cared for most was okay.

But even he can tell what this means. While it is relief to know that person is alright, this is rejection.

Not even his special person, the one that was there for him when even the gods had abandoned him, wanted him. Not even _Revolver_ wanted him.

It aches, because Ryoken is there when he dreams, a voice finally given shape: blue eyes like the sky and hair like polished pearls. And Yusaku wakes up happy, at ease, only to be crushed by his own awakening. It’s twisted irony how he now wishes for sleep when before all he wanted was to be awake.

 

133\. Spiral

Shockingly, getting revenge and saving the modern world does not solve all Yusaku’s problems. Which is a pity, because Yusaku’s not sure what else to try.

Nobody told him that sometimes you give your everything to win and get nothing at all in return.

 

46\. Loiter

His life is full of holes, gaps where people and meaning used to be. Ryoken, _Revolver,_ is gone, and so is the burning anger that drove Yusaku for so long. There is no longer any mission to complete, or any reason to sleep through or skip class. There is no reason for long nights up with Kusanagi, and no time for peaceful afternoons in eachothers' company: Kusanagi dedicates his every free moment to Jin, and Yusaku is left at the truck alone, watching the world continue to pass him by.

Playmaker is gone.

And so is Ai.

Yusaku’s not sure who and what is really left when its all taken away. Yusaku doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be anymore, except the boy left on the other side. The one nobody ever came back for.

But agonizing over it doesn’t suit him.

 

31\. Honesty

Yusaku may be a little too quick to jump back into the fray, into having a mission. He hasn’t even updated his avatar, and his ritual deck is a work in progress. But he does not hesitate, because he’s discovered, since his unofficial vacation, that he thrives most when he has something to confront. He just wishes it wasn’t at the expense of Kusanagi and his brother’s peace.

So he will find the one responsible for this, and tear them down. He will retrieve Jin, even if he must rip his consciousness from their coding. And then maybe he will be satisfied.

 

108\. Wind

Returning to Vrains is like what Yusaku imagines coming back to the workplace after a horrible holiday feels like. There’s stress there, but it’s a familiar, manageable feeling, and there’s comfort in that. It’s straightforward and the aggravating itch of uncertainty is gone; Yusaku knows exactly what he has to do, and how to do it.

It’s easy to fall back into, even though it’s been so long since he was properly on the hunt. Months ago he would scour the VR world for stray Hanoi members and destroy them, and while he did not miss it, there was rhythm to the pursuit that had grounded him. Since then, he hadn’t been quite the same without the wind rushing past his face and an opponent wavering before his eyes.

 

155\. Connected

Ai comes back, very suddenly, to tag along on their new mission. It’s so simple that Yusaku feels foolish for not expecting it before, and for ever missing the little nuisance at all.

Of course Ai came back. Ai, at least, would probably always come back. Only Ai.

 

44\. Light

The situation worsens just as it gets better, as Ai melts down and two new opponents emerge. Yusaku’s heart is pounding in his chest even as he presses the board to go faster. He is unwilling to fail.

And then the sky goes dark, storm clouds rolling with red, crackling lightning that has Yusaku’s hair on end. From the gray erupts forth a tornado of fire, and from the whirling flames bursts a duelist. He’s fast, rocketing around in wild spirals before he comes slamming down behind Yusaku, catching the wind with perfect precision.

His hair is blue and orange, his eyes yellow ( _yellow, but human, not like--)_ and when their gazes meet Yusaku _feels_ it, _hears_ it like a distant cry, like fate slamming the brakes and they are being sent careening and screeching into something they do not understand.

He does not know who this person is, just that he is familiar. But there is no time for questions, not with the enemy getting away and with Ai in the state he’s in.

Yusaku flies away, and somehow, his heart is calm.

 

107\. Fly

Speed-dueling, and the skill it takes to ride the wind, comes surprisingly easily. Takeru wonders if its because he and Playmaker come from the same background, or if its because of all the hours he spent watching whatever footage of the legendary duelist he could get his hands on, over and over.

But there’s no time to waste on marveling on how it feels to soar through the sky; he has to catch up to Playmaker, in every sense of the phrase.

 

153\. Tranquility

Far away, Ryoken steps on to yet another port and wishes the voice in his head would stop whispering _go back, go back, go back._ He goes into the town reluctantly to restock the pantry, avoiding looking at any of the TV screens. He fails.

“ _Playmaker has returned!”_

A fake, Ryoken tells himself as he walks by. It has to be a fake. There is no reason for Yusaku to duel anymore.

“ _Playmaker has revealed the sixth Code Talker!”_

Ryoken shuts his eyes and fumbles for his headphones. He doesn’t want to hear this.

“ _Who’s this? Someone has come to Playmaker’s aid? Does Playmaker have an ally?”_

Ryoken looks and listens, and there must be something wrong with his heart for his chest to suddenly feel so empty. For him to seethe with such sudden and irrational rage. There’s someone he does not know on the screen, an Ignis on his wrist and Playmaker’s eyes on his face.

Oh, that must be it: simply hate for the AI, nothing more.

 

8\. Snow

There’s a boy following him in the hallway. Maybe most people would not notice, but Yuusaku spent a year with his skin crawling, on guard for the day they came to put him down. Somedays he even hoped for it, nerves tight and burning with the need to fight.

He’s lived his whole life looking over his shoulder, but this is the first time in a long time someone looks back.

The boy’s hair is white and red, like a cherry snow-cone, and he flinches when their eyes meet. In an instant the boy is gone, ducking into an empty classroom.

Because _that’s_ not suspicious: going into a dark class after the school day is done. Yusaku waits for him to come out again, but instead he hears two voices arguing indistinctly on the other side of the door. Like he thinks Yusaku is oblivious or something.

Well, then he has no idea who he’s dealing with.

 

144\. Fresh

Playmaker turns out to be teenager with fierce eyes and hair painted with the colors of galaxies. Looking at his back, Takeru thinks he can do this. But then Fujiki Yusaku turns around, eyes narrowed and poisonous, and Takeru _panics._ He’s intimidating, somehow: a slight form containing a fearsome and uncompromising spirit.

His heart rate spikes as he scrambles into the nearest room, and he feels ridiculous. The perfect opening, and one glimpse of green eyes sent him reeling. As Soulburner, it had been so easy to face the other, and stupidly he had assumed the meeting in the real world would be the same.

Foolishly, he had thought Playmaker would be less intense in real life, not more.

It’s kinda...

 

76\. Milk

They’re on a ferris wheel, though Yusaku isn’t quite sure why. It feels like extraneous effort just to have a private conversation. But most of what Yusaku has seen Flame and Soulburner do has been _extra._ The storm, the flames, _transferring to his school_. Yusaku doesn’t know what to make of it, but there’s something odd about Homura’s eyes. Something expectant.

Ai takes to them more easily than he does, and before long, they’re seated at Cafe Nagi and Ai tells Homura to call him by his given name.

All eyes turn to him. “I don’t mind.” Yusaku says, and he truly doesn’t. He’s never cared much for decorum, so he doesn’t mind the familiarity.

“Call me Takeru, then.” Homura-- _Takeru_ smiles, and Yusaku doesn’t know what any of this means. Just that Takeru’s hair is the color of milk and blood and that he’s always looking at Yusaku. Only Yusaku.

 

74\. Heartache

Sometimes, Kusanagi would take them back to the ocean. Yusaku would stare over the water for minutes at a time, searching for white smudge of the blue waters. Instead he would mistake the crests of waves and the wings of seagulls for a yacht’s bow, and then hate himself for the way his heart leapt.

He’s getting better, though. Eventually, he stops looking.

They’re back by the water now, with Homura, and there’s a million other things to do and think about. Yusaku’s over it, _really_ , and has just one little wish left.

_I hope you get seasick._

 

98\. Leaves

It’s a trap. Ai doesn’t need to point it out, Yusaku knows the moment Kusanagi brings it up. And it stings, a little. Yusaku had thought that—between them disintegrating before his eyes, entrusting him with the future, and the brilliant moment that he knew he saved them all, he thought they had come to accept him, jagged edges and all. He thought they understood.

Yusaku is not a mindreader, for all that he feels he can read people. He does not know if there is more to this than what is apparent, and he’s not sure if he cares to. He has never needed them, never relied on them, so it should not matter whether they are with him or against him. Whether they have sold him out, or are working the system for a chance.

None of that matters; he’ll just have to risk it, because this is their only lead to Jin and the enemy. And Jin is what matters, not the people that have left him on the other side of the chasm.

 

103\. Swim

Ghost Girl’s stealth program is unsurprisingly, disappointedly useless beyond the initial security check. Bounty hunters descend upon them, led by a familiar face. Yusaku does not think he has the capacity to feel anything about GO’s turn, but there’s some kind of strange bitter taste on his tongue. Is he upset that Ghost Girl helped Zaizen herd them into a bear-trap, and that GO is the steel teeth? If this is a facade or a ploy, it’s an unnecessary one, and more of a hinderance than help.

It’s sink or swim, and no matter their intentions, they all have only ever been the weights pulling him down.

 

151\. Vibrancy

“Go.” Soulburner tells him all over again, with eyes that do not waver. “I’ll take care of this.”

Trust in people is not something Yusaku values, or practices. But this is becoming a pattern, and he knows how to make use of the resources offered to him. That is why he nods and takes off, but it does not explain the strange, vivid warmth the lingers even after he leaves Soulburner and the others behind.


	2. Weeks of Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit shorter this time, but hey, Ryoken is back and looking fierce as hell

  1. **Shatter**



It wasn’t supposed to be like this. His father said it was all for the good of humanity, but how could any of this be _good?_

And he’s trying to be a good son, trying not to doubt his father, but the screams of the children echo in his ears at night. When he first met them, they were so bright and full of smiles and giggles, and now they are quivering piles on cold floors, with tear-streaked faces and broken hearts.

Most of them don’t smile anymore. All they do is beg and cry and _die._ Ryoken didn’t think he knew what death looked like, but he can see it now, in how the children’s faces wane and their bodies deteriorate.

_I brought you here._

The one his father calls No. 6, the boy with the kind eyes and friendly heart, doesn’t have either of those things anymore. And won’t have _anything_ for much longer.

_I brought you here to die._

 

  1. **Energy**



People mistakenly think him naturally cold. His classmates assume he was born standoffish and detached, with blood as blue and icy as his hair.

But Yusaku burns hot, red fiery rage pumping through his veins. He bottles it up inside himself, so no one can take it from him, so no one innocent can be burned. He stokes it up inside himself and thrives on it, using it to live, to fight.

Yusaku burns steady and fierce, an eternal flame nurtured within his soul for an eternal hatred and an unforgivable crime.

 

  1. **Consequence**



It didn’t match up. Playmaker was No. 6. That was certain. But it was _wrong._

It was not like he expected that child to remain the same, not after everything that happened. But he hadn’t expected the differences to be so _stark_ either. The boy he met that day, with shimmering eyes in the setting sun, had smiled brighter than Stardust Road. He’d been so sweet, and earnest, and innocent.

When Ryoken made the call, he’d been so _sure_ he had saved whatever remnants survived the experiments.

But Playmaker was bitter as limes and cunning enough to outfox the foxes. Playmaker was prepared to doom them all, for a chance to burn the people that burned him. Whatever Ryoken had released from that cell, it wasn’t the boy he wanted to save. It was something else in his skin, something vicious and angry and _sublime_.

_I should have left you there to die._

But Ryoken knew he could never have. Not for the world. 

 

  1. **Living**



He was supposed to be getting better, and he was. Just...not enough.

Yusaku had hoped that it would be easier to smile and laugh in a world without Hanoi and Kogami. That whatever was wrong with him would be miraculously fixed. It was his last, desperate measure, besides…

But he took his revenge, he foiled their plans, and he all but killed his tormentor himself. Drove the bastard straight to the grave. The vindication was there, but it didn't make him smile.

Ai made him smile in the end, right before he left. The final duel made him smile through the pain: some sort of messy, haphazard expression of how _amazing_ his special person was. Those moments, however clumsy, should have made it easier, to grin and laugh in their aftermath.

Yusaku scowls at his reflection in the mirror. The expression just comes so much more naturally.

 

  1. **Paradise**



It’s a beautiful garden. Wisteria falls all around him, dappled and radiant with sunlight shining through the branches. It weaves overhead in a stitch-work of earthy brown and soft lavender, edges with brilliant blues and pinks. The pebbles weaving a path through the thick, emerald grass shine under his feet, rustling alongside the shifting leaves with his every step.

A child is laughing, a sound sweeter than even the berries bursting from the brush, and a little figure dances around the edges of his vision.

He should leave. He should turn his back and walk away. “Hey, you,” He calls instead, and it stills, turning towards him. And Ryoken is screaming inside his head, trying to change the scene, prevent the tragedy. But nothing happens, and he reaches for the boy, who crumbles like ash under his fingertips, innocent face briefly contorted with terror before he’s reduced to nothing in Ryoken’s hands.

“You did this to me.” An older, deeper voice rings out, stronger and fiercer than anything he’s ever heard before. The sunlight turns red, and for a moment, he thinks the sun is setting.

But the garden is on fire, and it screams as it burns. Blues and purples are swallowed by blinding orange and yellow, and smoke fills the air. “ _You_ did this.” Playmaker accuses, behind him, and Ryoken finds, somehow, the power to turn around.

Playmaker is there, but he’s not talking to Ryoken.

“Father!” His father is there, and he is burning.

“Your fault.” Playmaker tells the writhing, flame-wreathed form, and then he looks up, and catches Ryoken’s wide eyes. His eyes are so, _so_ green, even in the hellish red devouring them.

 _No,_ Ryoken tries to say, _it was my fault._ But Playmaker just smiles, like he does in every damn time Ryoken dreams this dream.

  

  1. **Patience**



Blood Shepherd is familiar, in a frustrating, uncomfortable way. He counts in threes, he hates AIs, and he keeps shooting at Playmaker.

Yusaku had never thought he could miss _Revolver,_ but he thought he did after it all ended. But maybe that was not quite it, maybe what he missed was the way Revolver made him feel: the conviction, the purpose, the anger, the desperation. Feelings he hadn’t felt so viscerally in months, as if the Hanoi weren’t the only ones that perished the day the Tower went down. As if the angry, miserable child inside him vanished the same day.

Yusaku hadn’t known what to do without those feelings. But as he barely escaped another attack and wasted another precious moment that should have been taking him closer to Jin, they came oozing backup the abyss like blood from a reopened wound.

And Yusaku swallowed them back down, as he had always done and maybe always will.

 

  1. **Prize**



It’s another day in another port. Ryoken wanders the town, because he cannot bear to be on the yacht a moment longer.

The two of the former three generals have caught up to him, joining him on whatever this journey is. On the ship, they pace around him with worried, ashamed eyes, and despite himself, Ryoken thinks of Yusaku: thinks of Genome and Aso’s faces as they made Yusaku scream and cry for months on end. His stomach twists resentfully, and he can’t help but wish the guilt for making Hanoi’s greatest enemy weighed them down just as much as it dragged on him.

And once he starts thinking about Yusaku, he cannot stop. No matter how fast he walks, he can’t seem to leave the memories of Playmaker and Yusaku behind.

Entirely by accident, he stumbles across a merchandise store, and there Playmaker is, printed on every inane object and poster. It’s all images snatched from the depths of the internet, from news outlets, or avatars and CGI based on the famed internet vigilante. There’s plushies and figures as well, and seeing Playmaker’s brilliant green eyes reduced to paint and felt makes him feel ill.

It doesn’t seem right, watching Playmaker be sold like a commodity.

 _None_ of it feels right. Kyoko and Aso and Genome going free while the internet hunts Playmaker for money and glory while people sell his image to make a quick buck.

 _Is this really what you fought so hard for?_ Ryoken asks a Playmaker keychain, _are you really satisfied with this?_

He doesn’t buy the keychain, or anything else. He doesn’t need substitutes and stand-ins, not when he knows the real thing.

_Because I’m not._

  1. **Machine**



_You aren’t real._

He is real. Descartes’ Meditations and all that.

_You aren’t even a person. Just a bad counterfeit of one._

It’s not easy to deny. He often feels like a poor excuse of a human being; he relates more to computers, software, zeroes and ones, more than he does to his classmates.

But he remembers the last time he was a person. Before he was an emissary, before he was a lab rat, he was person. A child that smiled at strangers and wanted to make friends.

 _Stupid. Foolish. Naïve._ He’d been a stupid, foolish, naïve person once, that hadn’t had a single doubt before those beautiful clear eyes.

He isn’t that person anymore, but he still couldn’t doubt those eyes, and well, that means he probably is still human.

 

  1. **Loyalty**



That day, for his own ends, Ryoken became his friend. His last friend. Over the course of those six months, he maintained that friendship, with a steady mantra of words that filled Yusaku with hope and strength.

It was about time Ryoken took responsibility for that.

 

  1. **Rejuvenate**



He agonized for about a month, frustrated and desolated, but he gets back on his feet and stops running. His father would be ashamed to see him so static, when there was so much left to do. The burden of humanity’s future had been placed on his shoulders, and he must bear it for all the people that placed their trust in him.

The first order of business: he had to retrieve Kyoko. Anonymously, Kusanagi Shoichi and Yusaku had made sure she was imprisoned for her crimes. And she had not helped her own case, releasing the victims of the virus. But while Ryoken could not argue for her innocence, they need her. Even at the cost of the little scrap of justice the victims had finally been granted.

 _The world has no need for your justice,_ he tells the wanted poster of Playmaker. They had placed it up on a holographic, as a reminder of what they faced and what they must overcome. _And I have no need for_ your _future._

 _You will accept_ mine _._

 

  1. **Exhume**



There was someone out there targeting the victims and the results of the Hanoi Project. It’s the only conclusion he can come to. They were after the Ignis and the children they originated from, but the question of _why_ eluded him.

Bohman had been a fake, but it was alarming just to know there was someone out there with enough knowledge of Yusaku to make a fake at all. The Hanoi Project had been covered up so well that few even knew of its occurrence, and even among those, most were oblivious of the incident’s true nature. Yusaku had been kept in the dark as well, until he abandoned law and caution to dig up the truth himself.

Was there something still unknown? Had someone unaccounted for been involved?

He could think of only one person with the answers. But that was a dead end.

Kusanagi was withdrawing further away by the moment, and while Takeru was a dutiful companion, he couldn’t offer what Yusaku needed.

Yusaku watched the night sky, sprinkled with stars and wishes never granted. It gave him nothing.

_I have to do everything myself._

 

  


	3. Ten Years Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is incredibly all over the place but im sad

**61\. Toys**

As a child, he had tried to find the other children. The Project had fallen, his father was taken away, and the subjects sent, supposedly, home. But Spectre came back, and he started to wonder if the others were really safe.

They weren't.

He should have searched harder.

 

**57\. Ocean**

How fortunate is he to wake to the sound of waves against the hull of the yacht, to wake at all. He found out yesterday that three others are not so lucky. While he’s been fleeing from his failure, beating a retreat like the coward he is, his enemies have been busy.

When he closes his eyes, he sees the grainy security footage and the still, empty bodies. It’s too familiar to watch their suffering on screen, something alien and far away and out of his control.

Ryoken memorizes the terror etched into Kusanagi Jin’s sharp face until he can almost feel it. It’s not enough. Just watching has never been enough.

The ocean does little to wash away the images of the victims that were targeted while he was wallowing, but it makes him feel small and unimportant. The endless expanse of blue reminds him that they’re all just little pieces in a machine beyond their own comprehension. There’s no time to waste on trying to fight the tides of fate.

That’s how his father would think of it, at least: just casualties paving the road of human progress. But at what point are the casualties too personal? It couldn't be right that six specific individuals had to suffer, over and over again, for the sake of artificial monsters that would only be humanity’s end. No matter what his father believed, Ryoken knows that is is wrong.

But how can he _stop_ it?

 

  1. **Balance**



He never knew whether to scoff at or admire Yusaku’s foolhardy spirit. His rival was eternally marching into minefields, with the unwavering intention of finding and stepping on each. It was a unique blend of incredible observational intelligence and dangerous recklessness, and it was fascinating and maddening in equal measure.

The landmine Yusaku had found for himself this week was a seemingly innocuous crossword puzzle with the Ignis algorithm hidden within.Yet another trap, and Ryoken had no doubt in his mind that Yusaku had walked right into it.

And Ryoken, bound to that dangerous, impetuous mutineer by chains and red string, would follow.

 

  1. **Thunderstorm**



It’s not how he expects to go down: trapped in a bubble, not even given a chance to fight back before he’s torn apart by Ai’s sociopathic friends. It would be disappointing, if his heart wasn’t pounding.

Yusaku thinks about death often, and thinks even more about how he wanted to face it. And this isn’t it. There must be a way out, something he can do. But in his head, he can see Zaizen clutching at the bars of his cage screaming in agony, can see Ghost Girl crashing down in a flash of light, can see Go Onizuka dissolving into nothing but red.

He wonders if this is how they felt as they vanished—frustrated and uncertain, dropping out of the game too soon. Yusaku is going to die and everything he knows will die with him, because this time there is no one to warn, no one to carry the message out.

Even so, he is glad he came alone.

Ai is straining, trying to take control of the datastorm, but even Yusaku can tell it’s hopeless. Windy can too, and the winds surge, drowning out Ai’s panicked scream. It’s the end: no final stand on a stage before millions, no last words, no fanfare.

Somewhere far above them, something changes. The Ignis’ confusion barely registers before there’s an immense roar of thunder, lightning crashing into the center of the room in a blinding flash. Yusaku flings an arm over his face instinctively as white fills his vision and the room quakes under his feet.

It’s familiar, just as much as the voice that follows. There’s a man crouching before him in a long white coat, and this time he is facing Yusaku’s enemies. And Yusaku can feel his eyes burning and his throat closing around a thousand words and a thousand feelings he has no name for.

There’s only one name on his mind, and it escapes his lungs in a sharp cry.

 

  1. **Hero**



Yusaku is always thinking of the future, trying to ignore the past they wear on their shoulders. Ryoken thinks that is what it means to be blameless; to not have to burden the regrets, the what ifs, the should-haves that didn’t. Yuusaku couldn’t regret choices he never got the option to make. And Ryoken is glad for him, even if it is a struggle to admit it. Yusaku doesn’t need more pain in his life, in his future.

He doesn’t need Ryoken either. Not until moments like this, when the stars themselves align and let Ryoken be there in the right place at just the right time.

This moment, at least, he won’t regret.

 

  1. **Radiance**



He’s different, but Yusaku would know that voice anywhere, would recognize how it makes his heart pound, how it makes pressure build against the roof of his mouth. Above them, he can hear the distant rumble of dragons roaring and explosions tearing apart the haphazard world, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Revolver.

It’s been months— ages, really, of boredom and silence and staring at his ceiling wondering why he still feels like he’s drowning— but it’s like someone has dragged is head above water and pushed air into his lungs.

That’s not _fair_ , because _it’s been months_ : months of knowing that Ryoken would rather run after the lofty dreams of a madman than face Yusaku. Now he's back and he’s just here for the Ignis, Yusaku knows. And somewhere deep, that hurts.

 

  1. **Metamorphosis**



Just this once, Ryoken thinks, he’s not the harbinger of pain and misery and the reason for the hurt in Yusaku’s eyes; just this once, Ryoken can be the knight in shining armor, savior of the innocent.

It tastes different from the self-hatred that usually stings his tongue. It tastes like that impossible little future Yusaku promised him. It tastes like vindication too, refreshingly sweet after months of stewing bitterly in his own self-righteous indignation. 

This,  _this_ , is how it’s supposed to be. The enemies of humanity are standing before him as his men tear through their artificial haven like the shoddy shantytown it is. The one he wanted to save shielded behind him, and not in front of the barrel of his gun. 

He could get used to this.

  
**177\. Paradise**

It’s strangely comfortable, sitting down at a table with Ryoken. There’s a bit of a breeze, carrying in the autumn chill, and Ryoken’s hair shifts with it. Each strand catches the sunlight and shimmers, iridescent like the heavens and icier than snow.

This is the third time they have met in less than two weeks, and the second time Ryoken has told him to come to Stardust Road. It is more than they have ever had the chance for, but the meetings are brief and business-orientated, and Ryoken does almost all of the talking. For the most part, Ai answers in Yusaku’s place, and each time the AI speaks there is a sharp, dangerous glint in Ryoken’s eyes.

Yusaku knows these meetings are probably not a good thing. They upset Ai. Takeru and Flame don’t know. Ryoken clearly has his own motives: it’s surely no coincidence that Ryoken only tells him information that reflects poorly on SOL, on the Ignis. On the incompatibility of the two sides of this conflict.

But at the same time, it’s easy to sit across from Ryoken and listen to his voice. Easier than anything Yusaku has faced in these past ten years: there’s no pressure to speak, no expectation of a reply, and for once his blank, impassive expression isn’t the wrong answer.

It’s a taste of something he’s desperately wanted since he was six years old, a glimpse of the future that he relentlessly pursued with all his heart.

He just can’t give it up.

  
  
**120\. Protect**

The Anti-Ignis security program is something he is constantly improving. It’s essential: to their security, to their search, and to the eventual destruction of their enemies. But this particular version needs to be perfect. And yet, it also needs to be done, because each moment it isn’t is another Yusaku is wandering around, defenseless against the Ignis algorithm that already almost killed him. Somehow, he has to resign himself to finding the balance between the two. Looking at the code in front of him for the thousandth time, Ryoken doesn’t think he will ever be truly satisfied with it.

He saves it on a memory card, and forces himself to call it finished. He can keep working on it later, he tells himself, and then bring Yusaku an updated version. One with more security measures, more monitoring software, more flexibility. It would be easier if he could just work on Yusaku’s duel-disk directly; no, the easiest option would be getting Yusaku to use one of their already altered duel-disks.

That is probably not going to happen. _Yet._

  
  
**182\. Pretend**

“The enemy of the enemy is a friend.” Ryoken says as he walks away, and Yusaku stares at his back. He can’t say he’s surprised—already, in the fake Cyberse World, the Knights of Hanoi had been showing interest in teaming up until Lightning and Windy are dealt with.

Coming here to the truck today, bearing gifts... one might even think Ryoken is eager. He wonders if Ryoken has forgotten that for Yusaku, every side of this conflict is the enemy of his enemy.  And by that logic, all his friends, or something, which is why he doesn't subscribe to it. Ryoken can’t possibly think that because Yusaku forgives him, the rest of the organization is also excused, right?

“Are…we allied with Hanoi now?” Kusanagi asks, with no small amount of horror.

“Of course not.” Yusaku denies and returns to the inside of the truck. It doesn’t matter what kind of strange ideas the Knights have in their heads; that is never going to happen.

Kusanagi seems relieved but raises an eyebrow and nods in the direction Ryoken left. “Does Revolver know that?”

“Does he need to?” Yusaku asks right back. It’s not like Yusaku has agreed to anything yet. Kusanagi just sighs, looking deeply stressed. Alliances are just not really Yusaku’s thing, but there’s probably no harm in leading Hanoi on a bit if it keeps Ryoken coming.

 

  1. **Irony**



They’re in an alliance with Hanoi now.

 

  1. **Disgrace**



His fists clench as Playmaker’s face appears on screen, a rush of outrage washing over him as the dire situation becomes apparent. Ryoken expects nothing more from a gutless virus.

Faced with Playmaker’s fragile expression, he doesn’t think about how many times his own allies suggested such pathetic tactics, only about how he knew each time that aiming so low was the same as admitting they were too weak to face the nemesis they created.

The so-called superior Light Ignis has given up on beating a single human teenager. Instead he resorts to _this._

The worst part is that it will work. He knows Yusaku, like no other, and _knows_ this will work.

And there’s nothing Ryoken can do about it.

 

  1. **Victory**



Attacking means hurting Kusanagi. Resisting means killing Jin. Winning is losing. And losing means death, not just his, but Ai’s, and maybe others’ too.

His mind churns through plans and strategies that all lead to nowhere, just dead ends he knows he cannot enter. No matter how much he twists the situation, he can’t find the path to a future.

There isn’t a way out of this.

 

  1. **Vintage**



The Light Ignis made him watch as Spectre vanished. It already had four of _his_ six. (And they are _his,_ always have been, even if he could never bring himself to admit it before.) Ryoken knows this helpless feeling, and he hates it with all his heart. Stuck on the wrong side of a screen, watching Yusaku suffer all over again.

The security footage, the accident report, the hospital records: he reviewed them all, so many times, refusing to look away from the people he had failed to protect.

He can’t look away now, either.

 

  1. **Sadness**



_I regretted it,_ Ryoken had said, about saving them. Yusaku could feel his throat closing up with the memory of his words, each one lodging in his chest like he was trying to swallow gravel. Spectre had said the same, that it was Yusaku that dragged everyone into a war, back then. The same accusation burns in Kusanagi’s eyes. Because now they’re all here, facing the Ignis he saved, and he was facing the one person he brought himself to trust after _everything—_

Was this all his own fault? Did he only have himself to blame?

But that wasn’t fair. Why did he have to quietly suffer for humanity? Why did he have to live with his pain, so his tormentors could go free? Why was it wrong? Was he selfish? Was he supposed to sacrifice more? Was it his responsibility to suffer? To die for Kusanagi and Jin?

“Lose for Jin’s sake.” Kusanagi said, because he loved his brother more than anything, and no amount of late nights spent side by side could even come close. There was no one on the planet that would fight for Yusaku so fervently. No one waiting for him to come home either. Jin had a family, at least—people that missed and loved him and would be happy to have him back.

All he had to do was lose, and they would be happier for it.

But, he didn’t want to lose.

 _Survive this battle,_ Ryoken’s voice echoed in his head. The same voice, years younger, whispered a too familiar mantra that for once wasn't comforting in the slightest. He felt sick, almost nauseous, because living meant killing, defeating the enemy meant hurting an ally, and going home meant robbing a family of their happy ending.

How did it come to this? Taking a chance on someone, letting them in, pulling his hood down that day instead of just walking away—had it all been leading him here from the start?

 _I’m sorry I dragged you into this,_ Kusanagi told him once. Staring at the twisted face across the field, Yusaku realized he just might regret all of it too.

 

 

 


End file.
